


Breathe, Universe

by MultiFandomFics



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, And Pink, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkward First Times, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Connie is 16, Connie is the MVP of this fic, Corrupted Steven Universe, Cutting, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, First Dates, Flashbacks, Fuck Kevin, Greg Is Best Dad, HE USES HIS CLAWS FROM CORRUPTION I--, Heavy Angst, Horny Teenagers, House Party, Hurt No Comfort, I am so sorry for this, I can't write smut for the life of me, I hate writing smut so not alot, I like writing tags sue me, I was listening to my depression playlist while writing this, Implied/Referenced Suicide, In Character, Intervention, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It is 4AM help, Major Character Injury, Maybe - Freeform, Medication, Meditation, Movie Night, Non-Graphic Smut, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Partying, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Priyanka is also the MVP, Razors, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Series, Sexuality Crisis, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, So much angst, Sobbing, Spoilers, Steven Universe Is Not Okay, Steven calls Pearl mom, Steven doesn't like talking about his corruption, Steven has corruption scars, Steven hates WD, Steven hates rose, Steven is 17, Steven is a hopeless romantic, Steven is pan, Steven is trying okay?, Steven tells Connie everything, Steven trusts Connie with his LIFE, Steven-centric, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Too lazy to check, Trust Issues, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, amethyst is a stoner, and the gems nothing, antidepressants, at least in the first couple chapters, but he IS getting better!, fuck i'm tired, go away then, god he loves this girl, he steals amethyst's stash, he's too scared to go through with it though don't worry, i'm so damn illiterate, it did NOT help the angst, it isnt anymore, just not in this fic, literally switched from mobile to PC to write my own tags, non-traditional ways of cutting, on ''accident'', secretly tho, self-deprecating jokes, slight nsfw, so don't depend on a lot of it, so is Steven, so is Steven tho, sorry for that, speaking of angst, squeamish?, supportive families, tags might be duplicated, tags might be duplicated i'm too tired to check, the diamonds are NOT redeemed, this made me uncomfortable just writing it, this was going to be a one shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiFandomFics/pseuds/MultiFandomFics
Summary: Steven Universe has been having a terrible month. After his corruption, he decides to take it easy. Little did he know, the corruption wasn't his rock bottom; the aftermath was.Post "I Am My Monster", Pre "The Future"
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe, Ruby/Sapphire (Steven Universe)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARING: Self harm, mentions of suicide.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms

Steven couldn't sleep. But that wasn't new for him.

He'd lie awake, staring at the ceiling until sunlight would start to leak through his sliding door, forcing him to drag himself downstairs (on lucky days) without a wink of sleep.

He looked over at his clock. It read '4.00: AM'. Wonderful.

It's not like he had anywhere to go. Ever since his... 'Breakdown'... a week ago, he'd been taking it relatively easy, only leaving his bed to get food, use the bathroom, socialize with his family if he was feeling it, or to wash his bed sheets from the sweat of rotting away in his bed for days on end. He hadn't showered in days, he stunk of sweat, and salt from tears. He felt disgusting, unlike his usual cleanly self. 

Ever since his corruption, the gems have kept a close eye on him, hovering over him every second of the day. It can get annoying. Even though he did just go through a lot of physical (and mental) distress, he was still a teenage boy, who needed his privacy. 

He had his privacy now, though. At 4 AM. Everyone has gone back to little home school, or for the case of HIS gems, in the temple. He was completely alone.

He sat up with a start, albeit very slowly. The pain he felt he felt when he first uncorrupted on the beach that day.... the pain was immeasurable, too intense to name. His body burned, like he was being skinned with a knife made of lava. He could feel the immense pain deep down in his bones, as well, as if they were cracked like glowsticks at one of sour creams infamous raves. He hadn't been to one of those in a while. His missed it, the loud music buzzing in his head, mixed with the buzz of the bottle. He had those at home, though. Bottles of booze, hidden away in drawers and under his bed. He had a lot to hide, physically AND mentally. He sighs. 

The pain had gotten better, almost if there was none left, his movements were just restricted. 

But he misses it.

He misses the /pain/ .

And he's ashamed to admit it. He had good reason, though. He didn't know how the gems would react if he showed them the scars. How would they react? How would his dad react?

How would /Connie/ react. 

Funny how his brain always managed to find a path back to Connie, no matter the situation. Sometimes he got angry at it, sometimes happy.

Sometimes even a little embarrassed, as his hands would travel down south on quiet nights, her stuck in his head in provocative poses. He still didn't know how to feel when he thought about Connie this way. His dad had told him about how it was normal, though he never asked, and never will. It's embarrassing to him, his own father giving him a sex talk. He already knew the basics, through websites and magazines. His relationship with Connie, though old-ish, was just now going through the more... serious.. faze. They had done nothing yet, though. They hadn't even shared a real kiss yet. They were teenagers now. The smallest contact he made with Connie now, that would've meant nothing just months ago, now set his heart on fire, his face flushing. 

He's getting off-topic. He'd like to think about Connie all night, but he had something to do right now. 

He looked down at his hands in a disgusted manner, like they face wronged him time and time again, like he had done so many corrupt things with them.

And he had. Jasper, White, His dad's van.... /Himself/.

He flexed his fingers, pushing his newfound claws in and out of his skin like a cat. 

He's seen lion and cat Steven do this act before, but it had to be different for them.

Because it hurt like /hell/ for him. 

It was troubling, ho he liked the feeling of pain. He knew it wasn't normal, or okay. But it felt normal, in the sense of the complicit feeling; like he was doing something he wasn't supposed to. Like he was going to get caught. And that he had control over something in his life. It gave him a rush of adrenaline, unbeatable to any joint or bottle he's ever had before. And he /loved/ that feeling. So much so it troubled him personally; deeply. So no, he couldn't tell anyone. His game.... his fun would be over. And then... he'd have to take it to the extreme. I mean, he's taken a life before. Why not just...

His thoughts get cut of by a rough pain in his side. He was hugging himself, and must have squeezed to hard... while his claws were unsheathed. Blood trickled down his side and on to his shirt. The shirt was a deep black, the blood doing fuck-all to the color, leaving a damp like, easily explainable stain. The four tears on it's side, not so much.

He grunted, taking off his shirt. He had to take it off anyways, but he could've spared it from being destroyed at his hands. Just like everything else he touches...

He makes his way down to the bathroom after a couple minutes of a pathetic attempt at hiding his ruined shirt, and an awkward, sideways crab-walk down the stairs. 430.

He stares himself down in the mirror, a game without winner. He'll blink, and so will his reflection. There's no point. Just like this meaningless life he's pulling on his shoulders. He's served his purpose. 

He unsheathes his claws.

He's saved the universe.

He puts them to his wrist.

He's helped everyone.

/Cut. Cut. Cut./ 

He winces, the pain rushing through his body like a chill. It's runs around his body, searching for a spot to settle in, when it does. The very place it started. The four fresh lines across his wrist, overlapping the old, paler ones. He stares at the deep, yet bright red. He smiles, the breaks into a full on laugh. Like he's a kid again. Like this is the only joy he's felt in years. And maybe it was. His laughter suddenly stops, it's quiet. No noise. Like he's making sure no one is there. Silence. He smiles. /Complicit/. /Sneaky/.... In /control/.

((A/N; Sorry if there's any spelling mistakes. It is 530 AM while writing this and I'm too tired to spell check it.))


	2. Rows and Rows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven hates Rose, and Pink.

Another cut.

'You shouldn't be doing this,' His head reasons. /he/ reasons. 

And another.

That's not him. It's the /other/ one, who happens to share his body. 

Cut, cut, cut.

He isn't that.

Slice. Slice.

He isn't /Pink./

He looks down at his wrist. He can smell the metallic sent in the air. He's bleeding for /himself/, for /his/ pain, for /his/ worries, for /his/ fears. This could count as self care, if you look at it blindly enough. The one thing in his life that he can still control. That buzz of adrenaline coursing through his veins and into his head, making him giggle off his sense of reason again. His gem half. The part of him he represses. 

The part of himself he /hates/. The part of himself that got him into this mess of a life in the first place. That wasn't quite true. That was Pink. No, Rose. Well, they /were/ the same person. And he hated them equally. Maybe Rose a bit more than Pink. 

Pink fled her responsibility on homeworld, looking for freedom and a change of pace on earth. Leaving behind her family.. the diamonds.. Spinel... 

Rose fled her responsibility on earth, looking to escape all of her mistakes. Leaving behind the gems, his dad, and leaving him to deal with the mess she made. 

Blood trickles from his wrist down to the floor. He stares at it.

They were both bad people in their own ways, but at the end of the day, they are the same person.

All of their separate mistakes are each others mistakes. And he hates them for it. He hates /her/ for it.

And he /isn't her/. 

He never was.

He might be a monster, but at least he's not a diamond.

Or are those the same things?

Or is one worse than the other?

Or is he worse than the diamonds?

He unconsciously grips his shoulders. Too hard, apparently, as blood drew from his claws. His wrists and shoulders now a mess of scratches and metal-scented blood, he starts a shower shakingly, shedding the rest of his clothes. As he waits for the water to heat up, he stares himself down in the mirror once more, his vision a little blurry from the awful stench, and well, blood loss. He holds his arms out in front of him, staring at his canvas. His skin bleak and pale, the contrast of the deep red sticking out like a sore thumb.

He takes a finger to the cuts, swiping his bare skin across the rows of bloodied lines. The blood trails its way down his forearm, fading from red to a pale pink. He hisses from the pain, looking at his now bloodied finger, wondering why exactly he did that. 

He knows the hot shower water would hurt more than skin. He would make it worse on purpose, rubbing shampoo into the cuts consciously, howling quietly at the pain he's caused himself. He /loved/ the pain. Too much. 

He wouldn't heal the cuts. Even if he was about to be caught, he would keep them on his arms, almost as if it were a mark of pride, hiding them with thin jacket sleeves. Though, he loved the feeling of someone being on to him. The rush of adrenaline dancing in his head as he laughed off accusations. Excuses after excuses. They worked. No one questioned him further. He hated that, though. He /wanted/ them to be curious. He /wanted/ them to worry. He thrived off the rush. He /depended/ on it. He knew that was pathetic. But in these times, harsh reality and sadness trying at his mind, he needed a distraction. And there's no better distraction then /pain/ and /panic/. 

He stepped into the boiling shower, a little too hot for his taste, with a hiss. The hot water seeping into his cuts, staining the water below him a pained red. He held up his arms almost defeatedly, squeezing his eyes shut, yelping at the pain. /Pathetic/. He peaked his head out of the shower curtains, looking at the door and straining his ears for any noise. 

It's quiet, besides the running water beating on the plastic floor below him. He looks down at the crack at the bottom of the door, he's greeted with small cracks of dawnlight. He lets out a weak sigh. Another sleepless night.

He shames himself quietly, cursing at himself (a whole new thing on it's own,) about how this wan't healthy in the long run. Neither was slitting his wrists, as he turns his attention back to the lengthy cuts lining his forearms. the water pattering on his arms. He cringes at them, they did not look good on him. But they /felt/ good on him, and that was good enough for him. 

The shower was quick, maybe five or ten minutes of cleaning his hair and his newfound scars. He slid into the fresh pair of clothes he brought down with him, grey sweats and a grey tank top with a black star patterned in the middle. Nothing fancy. It didn't have to be, he wasn't going anywhere. He slid on his trademark pink varsity jacket over his arms, to cover up the ugly marks etched into his forearms. He didn't bother brushing his hair, leaving it a little messy, wet and tangled. Very unlike his normal, cleanly self. He drug himself to the kitchen, sitting down at a stool. He looked over at the microwave to check the time. 

5:30.

The gems would be here soon, he could feel the cuts still oozing small drops of blood. He sighed. He could write off the wet spots as sweat, or he could put extra effort into bandaging them. He decides the latter, "better safe then sorry," he mutters to himself, dragging his weight back into the bathroom. 

He takes of his jacket. Luckily, the blood hadn't tainted it yet. He pulls out bandages from the mirror-cabinet, taking out a roll of stable bandages, wrapping it around his most recently used wrist. His right wrist. He quickly finishes the bandages, moving to the left. /That's/ when he hears the warp pad activate. He panics, rushing to lock the bathroom door. He sighs as he's successful in the action, cautiously backing away for the door, back to the bandages. He hears light footsteps go up a flight of stairs, and then quickly rush back down. The feet wander to the bathroom door hurriedly, knocking gently. "Steven?" A voice asks. Pearls voice.

He panics, quickly starting to wrap his other wrist in the pale white bandages. 'Uh, yeah, Peal. I'm in here." "Oh! You got moving around! What are you doing?" Steven furrows his brows. /privacy/. "Uh, I just got out of the shower." He says, annoyance clear in his tone. "Oh! That's good! How are you feeling, any better?" Steven sighs, feeling a little guilty for getting angry at her. She was just trying to take care of him, after all.

"Yeah, i've been feeling a lot better. I'm not feeling a lot of pain, but my moving is pretty limited right now." Steven lies meekly. "That's great to hear! I'm going to little home school, but i'll be back in a bit. The others will be here shortly, if you need anything." The weak, yet genuine smile evident in her voice, Steven can't help but smile a little too. "Thanks, Pearl. Love you." He says, a little murmured and weak. But Pearl still got the message, her smile in tact. "I love you too, Steven." And with that, she's gone.

Steven finishes bandaging his arms, sliding on his pink jacket and slipping out of the bathroom door after unlocking it.


	3. What's Up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amethyst talks to Steven.

Steven steps bare foot out of the bathroom, only now taking account into how cold the floor was to his exposed foot, after being in a boiling shower. He shivers, making a strange, quiet "jshhh" sound. 

"What, the floor cold?" Amethyst asked as Steven flinched slightly off of the ground. Steven jerked his head towards the purple gem, mildly unprepared for more conversations, just now recovering from the short chat he had with Pearl. 

Yeah, he needed to work on his social skills. They were completely and utterly broken. 

The only conversations he'd partake in these days without feeling drained or exhausted were with connie. With Connie, words came easy. He had no trouble stringing words together, they never ran out of topics. And even if they did, their silences were comfortable and nice, holding each others hands or cuddling. 

Those moments were rare now. Connie had college prep, and he... was still physically and mentally recovering from his breakdown. They were both too drained now to have those moments. 

He'd have to make plans with Connie soon. He missed her. And he knew that if he was feeling down, she'd always be at his side. And that's what he loved about her.

Wait...

Dissociating. 

This wasn't rare, but the good kind was. Thinking about Connie. He can't get her out of his mind. Dissociating. 

"-ven.. STEVEN!" He heard Amethyst scream and he flinched, jumping slightly off the ground. "Jesus. You okay, dude?" He was still regaining consciousness as Amethyst spoke, so his answer was slurred; "gha, m'fine, fine. D'ssociatin'... err, whtevrrrr...." 

Amethyst blink at his strange behavior, supporting a grin. "You drunk?" She asked blatantly, Steven almost choked. "No, I just... when I do that... I go out of consciousness... just fucked me up a little." Steven said in a haze, completely glossing over the f bomb he dropped infront of his gossipy sister. 

"Fucked you up, eh?" Amethyst chirped. Steven groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He wanted to joke around, saying "I've killed before", but he felt like that would be too much right now. "Amethyst, I've kghuuufff. Gh." Was all he got out. "You've: 'ghuuufff'ed, huh?" She chuckled. "Too soon" he murmured. 

"Too soon for what?" "Joke, it was a joke. Too soon for the joke I was going to say. Ghhfff..." Amethyst raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "No humors too dark for me. Soon, I mean.... both." Steven rolled his eyes, sitting beside her on the couch and stretched out. "Mf? Ive killed before. Don't test me. There." He breathed as casually as he could. They sat in silence for a couple seconds. 

"Sorry, I know that's—" he was cut off by an obnoxiously loud howl of laughter. "It literally wasn't even that funny..." Amethyst rolled onto him, punching his arm. "YO, HA, STEVEN. WHAT THE FUCK" She pushed out, laughing hysterically. Steven inhaled, scoffing gruffly. "You wanna get off me?" He asked. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed her off the couch. 

"AWWWWHHH NOOOOOO it's brokeennn" Steven leered at Amethyst, rubbing his arm uncomfortably "Overstepping some things here..." he mumbled. Amethyst apperantly didn't hear his silent plea to 'quit it', as she prodded on. "NOW I MUST BOW TO YOU, MY DIAMOND!" Before she could move, Steven sat up quickly, a light tinted of pink flushed across his face. Not very viable, but still obviously there. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Haha, yo, dude, why the /pink/ face, pppfft—" "Amethyst." He cut her off, his voice booming yet deathly quiet. He looked down at her confused face, his glow vanishing and his arm dropping to his side. "I kno— aAAuUgh!" The idiot slammed his newfound scars straight into his side, only protected by cloth and bandage. He raised his arm back up, gripping his elbow painfully tight, to distract the pain of the cuts. 

"Yo, dude, what the hell? Are you okay?" Amethyst holds a hand out to which he turns away from. "Nhg!! Nothing, hit a vein." His lies came easily now, maybe too easily. He used to be so bad at lying, it was obvious in the way he would sweat and his eyes darted anywhere but the opposer. It gave away that he wasn't tell the truth in almost a second.

"How the fuck did you hit a vein? Are you that dumb?" That adrenaline. That complicity. That panic. There it was. His heart thumped in joyed, fighting off the reflex to laugh his ass off right then and there. "Just idiotic" he mutters. "Sorry about that. I'm gonna go get some rest now." "Wait, Steven—" he cut her off as he walked up the stairs, locking his door behind him.


	4. Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka shit starts to hit the fan.

He paused at the door, sliding down it and sitting down, sprawling his legs out on the floor. He raised a hand to his head, running it through his knotted locks. He stifled the urge to guffaw, bringing his other unused hand to his mouth, hiding his troublesome grin. It was out of place in an otherwise serious time. He still felt the unreal pain surging from his arm, almost as if he could feel his heartbeat from his wrist. He clenched his fist around a tuft of hair, pulling slightly. He let out a quiet whimper on top of a breathy laugh, lowering both of his hands down to his sides again, standing up slowly with the support of his hands pushing him off of the ground. 

He waddled to his bed, laying down on it with a thud. He took off his jacket to inspect his bandages. No one was here to see them. He was okay. The bandages were stained a faint red, the outside mildly damp. He rubbed a finger over the now pink-ish bandages, the texture once rough, now flaking and wet. He sighed. He's have to change them.

That flutter in his chest didn't go away. Illicit. Hoooo, boy, did that adrenaline feel great. It's the most alive he's felt in, well... ever. 

He heard a door open, then close. Then talking. Two different feminine voices. Steven couldn't make out who they were, or what they were saying, but he assumed one of the voices was Amethyst's. He sits up and puts his jacket back on slowly, careful not to rip the already weakened bandages. 

The voices continued, and soon, a warp went off, another voice joining the duo. He sighed. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl. He slowly sat up and resumed his position hunched up against the door, legs spread out in front of him. '-eah, his forearm." Steven froze as Amethyst spoke. Was his little game over? "But what does that mean? I'll have to ask Greg..." Of course they didn't know what it meant, he thought as Pearl pondered. Steven had to heal his scars. But he didn't /want/ to. Because then, his fun would be over. And he didn't want that. Because he savored the feeling of almost caught, he felt the buzz all over his body like music blasting on a speaker.

He had no choice but to undo all of his progress, all of his hard work. He don't know what would happen if his family found out he was... well, it wouldn't be good.

He leaned back farther, tuning out the voices as he thought about the consequences. Then, his vision goes blurry. He was still dissociating.

Of course he was. When he does start dissociating, it usually lasts a couple of hours. He tries refocusing his vision, to no avail. He had no medication for dissociation, but his antidepressants helped sometimes, he though as he stood up wobbly and unlocked his door after a few tries of grabbing it. He should leave his medication in his room, he made a mental note as he stumbled down the stairs, almost falling multiple times. All eyes landed on him as he tripped and fell down the last stair. Close, he thought.

He pushed himself back up, not at all effortlessly, before blurrily staring ahead of himself to a gem blockade. "Steven, what's wrong?" Pearl asked quickly, blocking him off from moving. "I'm gonna pass out if you guys don't move," He slurred out, blinking in and out of reality. "What do you mean?" Pearl asked again, more forcefully. 

"I mean, ahh..." He wheezed, holding a hand to his forehead to concentrate. "mmmeds." The gems looked at each other, before hesitantly moving out of Steven's way. Steven shuffled to the bathroom, opening the door and almost ripping off the mirror to retrieve his meds, swallowing them with only his own saliva.

It would hit eventually, jst not two seconds after he took them. He turned back to the door, tension of the deathly quiet atmosphere was enough to choke him. He shrugged his jacket off of himself, staring at the bandages plastering his arms. He thought about healing them. He really did. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it, he couldn't end his own game, he couldn't reverse /all/ of his progress. His heart beating out of his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his vision blurring and unblurring whenever they pleased.

Damn it. What an idiot. 

He didn't lock the door.


	5. Can't Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bandages.

Shit.

Steven's first reaction was to summon a light-based jacket around himself to obstruct the veiw of the bandages. But he couldn't. He was too weak to use his powers. He gripped the sink tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. He took a large inhale, ready for steady accusations. They weren't accusations. They were concerns. 

"Why do you have bandages on your arms!?" Amethyst was the first to cut through the deafening silence, blurting out her first thoughts. Garnet dissipated her visor, eyes clouded over. "My visions were true..." Pearl and Amethyst jerked their heads towards Garnet, shooting her worried and questioning gazes. 

"Steven... you're..." She cut herself off, not wanting to face facts. The two others were confused as ever. "He's what??" Pearl shrieked, causing Steven to let out a low, annoyed grunt. "Take off the bandages." Garnet demanded, the tone of her voice betraying her, no anger in her words. Steven wasn't threatened. 

He let out a cold distant "no" as a response. 

Garnet didn't ask questions. She hasn't in over 5,752 years. Rose had told her to never ask questions. But worry overtook her. And Rose's words were cut through like butter, showing no meaning behind them at all. But Rose didn't want anyone to ask questions. That would give up her facade. Garnet knew this. So she spoke to him 5 words; 

"Why are you doing this?" 

The gems were too concerned to notice her asking a question. Or they didn't care. Either way, Steven snapped. "Oh, you wanna know why?" He laughed. "Because this is the only thing that's making me /happy/. The one thing stopping me from—" Steven winced, looking away from the gems. "...you know what I mean..."

Garnet gasped, the gems still utterly confused. "Steven, please, take off the bandages... we can help you." Garnet spoke quiet and genuinely. Steven's eyes widened slightly, his mouth forming into a guilty frown. He gasped quietly, shaking his head, his facade almost breaking. "I'm fine, god! There are... there's nothing under these bandages, are... scales... I just dont like people seeing the scales..." he obviously lied. 

Garnet contemplated, her brows furrowing. The others turned to her for guidance, and an explanation. "You're lying." Garnet finally spoke, yet again breaking the silence. Steven squeezed his eyes shut and grunted, pissed his excuse didn't work, trying not to lash out. "I see no futures where underneath those bandages are scales." "Do you see a future where I listen to you?" He taunted, opening his eyes and smirking. "This one."

Steven furrowed his brows furiously, his smirk fading into an angry frown. He inhaled and opened his mouth, ready to combat her words, when Amethyst interjected.

"Yo, what the FUCK is happening?" She yelled, pissed and confused. Steven jumped at the sudden noise, summoning a hexagonal pink shield. The shield held for a couple seconds before glitching and dissipating, leaving Steven hunched over on his knees and panting. Pearl gasped and began to run over to him, but Steven held up a finger, saying "don't" breathily.

It took a second, but Steven wobbly got back to his feet. This intervention wasn't over. "It's not.. not this one. This is the one you guys'll leave me alone and give me space." Steven huffs out, a weak smirk once again plastered onto his red face. Garnet crosses her arms 

"It's not." She states. 'I'm not getting out of this, am I?' He thinks to himself, as he furrows his brows and stands his ground, crossing his arms aswell. "We don't know that fore sure." He growls, eyes piercing through Garnet, his cocky smirk standing strong on his face. But she doesn't crack. Or even poof. She holds her ground aswell, hellbent on helping Steven. It's charming, in a strange, maybe twisted way. 

"We do," she booms. "because we're not leaving this bathroom until you take those bandages off." She says clearly, summoning her visors again. Steven's muscles relax a little, knowing not to tire himself, they'd be here for awhile. "We'll be here for awhile." He sighs, repeating his thoughts out loud. "So be it. If this makes you feel better." Steven grunted at Garnets passive-aggressive comment. He sits on the floor sloppily. 

Garnet follows in suit, slab squatting on the opposite side of the bathroom. Steven leans back onto the cabinets below he sink, legs sprawled out comfortably infront of him, arms still crossed. Just like earlier, when he was eavesdropping on the gems, and when he almost got caught by Amethyst. It was almost his trademark 'I'm in serious trouble' position. 

Garnet knew Steven was stronger than the three, four, of them combined. She had no interest in rushing at him, to get her gems cracked in the process. She knew he would never intentionally hurt them. But he hypothetically could. And that was a risk she couldn't take. He's shattered before. It's not like she doesn't trust Steven. She does, with every fiber in her being. He's a great leader. The reason the earth was freed. But he's stressed, and confused. He could do something rash, and live to regret it. Or not live to regret it. And that was Garnets worry, as she ponders back to his previous self-endangerous comment. 

"The only thing that's stopping me from—" is the comment her mind traces back to previously. He was suicidal, and he was not one for empty words. Steven reached for his pink jacket, sliding it back over his shoulders, hiding the bandages, and his arms. His face blank, a hint of anger residued in his eyebrows, which were arched slightly downward. The gems sat down on each of Garnets sides, looking at her confused. 

"What is happening?" Pearl asked worriedly, looking as if she were about to break into tears at the slightest idea of Steven being unhappy. "Not now. Later. Stay strong. Steven needs us. I'll tell you all later." Garnet stated quietly, the two others nodded, now paying their attention towards Steven, who looked as if he were about to shatter everyone in this room. Including himself. Garnet couldn't let that happen. She had to be strong. For the others. Steven derides amusedly. 

This wasn't like Steven. Not the one she knew. Friendly, helpful, happy. This one was cold, distant... angry. He felt like a whole knew person to Garnet. The other gems too, probably. Amethyst told Garnet and Pearl how he said 'fuck', and how he joked about shattering. Very unlike Steven. What happened to him? 

Stupid question. She knew. She knew It had been their fault he was like this, they had caused him this pain. Garnet felt her breath hitch, a quiet gasp coming from her pursed lips. Steven looked up at her from spacing out, a bemused smirk plastering his face, lifting an eyebrow. 

Even his facial emotions were different; strange. Bemused and cocky; giddy, pissed, sad, and happy...all in the same look. Pearl patted Garnet on the shoulder. Garnet resumed her normal breathing, and Steven returned his focus to his hands that were pressed against the cold bathroom floor. Deep in thought.


	6. Flu Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven gets sick.

Steven fades in and out of consciousness, his vision on Garnet blurred. Steven coughed. He'd puke if he had anything in his guts left to throw up. Actually, he can't remember the last time he ate something. Come to think of it, that might've been a factor to why his vision is blurred and why he had a killer headache. To keep himself from passing out, Steven takes his index finger on his left hand to his index finger on his right hand, and started at scratch it, his claws not out, as to not draw blood. 

"Stop," Garnet demanded. He hesitated before continuing to scratch. "I'm about to pass out," he muttered, unintelligible to Garnet. She looked at him with a blank face, yet tilting her head slightly. ". . .no." he specified. Garnet huffed, then stood. Steven flinched in response to the sudden movements. Garnet paused, frowning. She say back down, devoid of reason to continue her pursuit on Steven. 

Steven huffed, blowing his stance. "Thanks for the adrenaline rush, really woke me up." Steven scoffed and nodded. The other two have long left the bathroom. It was just him and Garnet. "Why are you being like this.. I'm only trying to help you." Steven buffed at Garnet, turning away. "I don't /need/ help. I'm helping myself. On my own." "You're making yourself worse." She stated. Steven growled. He hated the truth, how he was hurting, not helping. Even if it meant on himself. 

He pulled his jacket up farther onto his frame, shivering. He's bot cold, why is he shivering? And why the sore stomach... 

His eyes shoot open. Garnet tilts her head. He snaps himself backwards and grabs ahold of either side of the toilet, vomiting into it. His shivering becomes violent, as he turns to look over his shoulder at Garnet. "Helping by starving yourself." Garnet murmurs, yet still legible. "This isn't about food, I've been eating fine..." lies. "I'm clearly coming down with someTH—" He turns back around to vomit again, panting. "...something." 

Garnet huffs, standing up. "Go rest. I'll leave you alone. For now." Steven stares at her before standing, running to his room without further questions. 

He opens his door then slams it shut, locking it. He backs away slowly, staring the door down as it were about to combust right infront of him, engulfing him in flames. Not like he was rejecting the idea, infact, he welcomed it. Taunting it by staring it down. He sat on his bed, laying down. He soon dozed off.


	7. No Rest For The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven lies down, but his dwelling thoughts keep him from getting actual sleep.

Steven blinks, his body betraying him in his time of need. He holds back the urge to vomit all over his bedsheets, groaning. He takes a hand to his temple yet retracts it quickly, hissing. He's boiling. Yup, definatley a fever. He coughs. He's annoyed. He's not supposed to be sick, or weak like this. He's supposed to be strong and brave, for his team! But there's nothing to be strong for anymore. Nothing to be brave for. 

He grouns again, frustrated. He shoots up, going headfirst into his trash bin, puking up bile, and a little bit of hard scotch, depending on the smell. He sat back, sweating, shaking, and wanting to scream his lungs out. The only thing Steven could do now was think. He hated being alone with his thoughts, but what else was there to do? He couldn't sleep, he knew that for sure, and his headache was too big to do any activity. 

Steven sniffled. Time for another bull session of self-deprecating insults by himself truly; ... gem... half... whatever. 

Sniff sniff. Cough. Gag. Head in the trash. Ignoring his intrusive thoughts. Repeat, repeat, repeat, yadda yadda yadda. He's never really been sick before. His gem half always kind of... avoided sickness. But it's like his gem half is turning on him. It's not like he couldn't understand why, though. Everyone has a reason to hate him, especially himself. 

Sniff sniff. Cough. Gag. Head in the trash. Ignoring his intrusive thoughts. Repeat, repeat, repeat, yadda yadda yadda. He's been trying to get sleep. He really has. As he lay down on his bed, he shuts his eyes, trying to block out all thoughts and emotions. But they don't go away. His bed feels like stone. He shifts in his spot, turning left and right, tossing and turning. Nowhere is comfortable. No where is safe. He shutters. 

Sniff sniff. Cough. Gag. Head in the trash. Ignoring his intrusive thoughts. Repeat, repeat, repeat, yadda yadda yadda. What nerve does Garnet have? He hates it. He knows she's just trying to protect him, but that's the problem he has with it! He's supposed to be the protector, not the protected! He help people, he doesn't hurt them, or need help! And that's the thought process that got him corrupted. Way to go, Steve-o, back at it with the harmful thinking and depression. Just like old times, eh brain? Useless price of shit. 

Sniff sniff. Cough. Gag. Head in the trash. Ignoring his intrusive thoughts. Repeat, repeat, repeat, yadda yadda yadda. He misses Connie. He really wants to talk to her, just not in this state. God, he can't get his mind off that girl. It's annoying at some points, but he still loves her. Ah, love. His weakness. Emotions. He really does like Connie, as more than a friend. And he knows she feels the same way. He has to hang out with her again. This time, no secrets. He'll tell her everything. Easier said than done, he knows. But he'll try. They to keep that relationship alive. Because that's what's mostly keeping him going. Once he gets better, they've gotta hang out. 

Sniff sniff. Cough. Gag. Head in the trash. Ignoring his intrusive thoughts. Repeat, repeat, repeat, yadda yadda yadda. Before he can think of any more thoughts, he surprisingly, finally, drifts off to sleep. Finally. He thought he was in for a full nights for of tantalizing thoughts and reliving trauma. Bow he gets to do that, but in sleep form. Which is a bonus. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in the span of a couple hours?? I'm on a roll!! I might even add another chapter to 'To The Mountain Tops.' Are you guys enjoying that book, too? It's been fun but really challenging to get good ideas for it. Anyways, I'm rewatching Atla rn. It's super good. Y'all watch it yes? If you haven't you should. It's on netflix. Anyways I'm talking too much. Hope you guys are enjoying this book so far!


	8. Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every question he has, he answers himself. So why does he keep asking?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omfg so... y'all really like this fic, huh?? I've been getting really great feedback recently and I'll try to update more. I've just been super busy :( love u all 💖💖💖

The skies were a light shade of grey when Steven woke with a start, jumping practically out of his skin as his newest nightmare fades out of his memory like static on the tv. There /was/ static on his tv. His nightmare was playing out for the world to see. But it was just him, in his room with his door locked... alone. He subjected himself to the loneliness, but that thought and acceptance alone didn't make it any less lonely. He sighs, rubbing his forehead. He had a killer headache. He looks to said locked door, his stomach growling. Would he risk confrontation with the gems for a bite to eat and a motrin? 

No. No, he won't. 

He's faced worse pain before, anyways. An empty belly and a pounding brain isn't as bad as horns ripping themselves out of his calves. He fidgets with a scale on his arm, accidentally ripping it off. He hisses in pain as blood gushes out of the fresh mark directly in the middle of a patch of rough pink scales that grew in favour of skin after his.. outburst. He sighs again, leaning back onto the once soft bed, that now felt like a slab of concrete. Why was he putting himself through this? He didn't have to. Why did he hate himself so much? He was going to therapy. Why did he hurt himself? It solved nothing and only brought pain. Every question he asked himself had an answer, so why did he keep asking questions to himself? 

He's lonely.

He drives everyone away. What happened to that once happy, helpful kid that everyone loved an adored? A voice beckons in the back of his mind. No one loves or adores the new you. Sad, depressed... useless. 

The voice loves to hit him where it hurts. Every time. He says to himself it's not him saying, putting himself through another layer of hurt for no other reason except self hatred and spite for having a sliver of happiness in his life he thinks he doesn't deserve, but.. 

It is. Who else would it be? No one has access to his mind other than himself. He cant blame anyone else for his problems anymore. This is why he has a headache. He cant stop overthinking everything and throwing himself into the dirt verbally, mentally, physically. 

A familiar tone chimes from his dresser beside his bed. The tune breaks through the wall of thoughts plaguing his mind as it enters his ears. He knows the tone. He knows who's calling him. 

Connie.


	9. Hey, Connie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven talks to Connie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... I'm not really sure why you guys like this fic! But you do?? So I'm sorry for dying. This isn't my proudest work. The writing could be better. But hey! Sorry for the long ass break. Things have been hectic, along with everyone else, I know. Now that my town is back in the red for Corona, I will have much more time on my hands to update my previous fics, and even make new ones! I love you guys so much, thanks for sticking around. And! If you're new to this fic, I am so sorry.

He stared blankly at the phone that laid on his bedside counter. The cheery jingle taunted him in his depressive state, his head surging with pain and vibrato. With a shaking hand he plucked the phone from its spot and observed it. It had a few cracks since it had been in his pocket when, he... yeah. He clears his throat. He tends to avoid that subject as if it were the plague. He hasn't talked about it yet, and it's been well over 3 days since it happened. 

He sucked a deep breath through his teeth as if he were wincing, and readied himself to talk. As soon as he answered he swiped the camera button off on instinct, still wearing the plastic fake smile for no reason. "Hey, Connie." He let out, voice scratchy. "Steven!" Her shrill voice cut through, a sense of uneasiness jutting through Steven at the worry in her tone. 

"Uhh, yeah?" He said quickly, it being all he could manage out. "Garnet called me. She didn't tell me much,-" she didn't finish her sentance before Steven was pushing himself backwards and vomiting once more. Garnet told her /what?/ what? What did she say? His nerves were bundled and his ears rung of static on loop until Connie struck again. 

"Steven!? Are you okay?" She asked hurriedly, her nerves seemed to be knotted as well. Great, he thought to himself. Now I'm causing Connie harm. Steven shook his head as he ringing lessend, choking back a; "fine, j'st, uh, not feeling the hottest!" He fake chuckled, shooting his arm out in a halfhearted swing, though no one could see it. "Now, why would Garnet call you?" He asked with another strained guffaw, sweat pouring down his face. 

Connie's face contorted now, somehow more of a worried look than the last. "Sh-she didn't give me the specifics but-- she said something was wrong, and- Steven, please talk to me? Tell me what's happening. Please." Steven hurt to hear her voice crack holding down pain and astonishing worry. He gritted his teeth as his knotted fake smile faded slowly. "C-Connie, I.. n... nothing. It's-- no, its- it's not nothing, it's.. well, I..I," he stuttered, valiantly failing at getting his point acrossed. 

His eyes darted downwards towards the pink stained bandages. He bit his lip timidly as he fidgeted with the edge of the wrap and awaited her answer. Did he want it? No. As much as he liked talking to Connie, he didn't like these situations. Situations where he felt helpless and trapped, like he could do nothing. He couldn't lie to Connie. He didn't know why, he was just... unable to. He could lie to everyone else, his friends, his gems, even his dad. But never Connie. He wouldn't let himself.

"Steven, please. I'm not going to judge anything you say. I'm here for you, okay? I just want to help." And then he felt like snapping. Screaming. Glowing pink. I'm here to help? Like Garnet is. Like Pearl is. Like Amethyst is. Like his dad is. He doesn't need help. But, truth be told, he's to weak to tell her that. And too aware to tell at her. Her of all people. The person that saved him. His... girlfriend? Crush. /Connie./ That's a good enough answer. Its Connie. And he could never. 

He intook another shaky breath before continuing. "Please. Connie," he whimpered, "I don't.. I don't need help. I'm managing on my own." He finished. He could say a whole lot more, but.. he didn't he stopped, and he sighed, and quietly fought the urge to sob. Why didn't he feel like this towards the gems? When they were questioning him like this he would turn angry and defensive, snidely growling at every remark. But to Connie, when Connie did this to him, he just... broke. Everytime. 

"You're not though, Steven. And I can tell." He felt cured of the sudden illness, stress overtaking the curling ball inside of his stomach. I.. illicit. He's supposed to thrive off of this. The almost being caught charade. But he shut completely down, and he broke, and he's just... frozen. His hand instinctively twitches to the damp bandages, his a jutted and loud, shaking exhale. Too loud. It sounded like a sob with no tears. He grimaced, and he could hear Connie shift, and take an inhale to speak. 

"I'm- I'm not!" He spoke loudly before she could finish her thoughts. "I'm not a-and I'm.. I- I'm scared." He said the last part quietly, almost in a whisper. He could hear Connie shift again, a steady exhale escaping her lips. Tears finally began to stream as he grunted high-pitched, yet quietly, through a closed mouth. "Scared of what?" She said calmly, concern though clear in her tone. 

He stared at the bandages again. Obviously main reason for concern, but.. his attraction kept to them. He asked himself why didn't he just heal them, and.. and well, he had no answer. He was stopping himself, because he liked the lingering pain they left. The illicit feeling of being caught on to. Illicit was the word he kept trailing back to, but that's not what this feeling he had was. He didn't know it's name, but he definatley felt it. 

He wasn't good with words. Maybe that was why. He's never been to school. That's one of the reasons for one of his many breakdown over the course of the last couple months. His drawn claws drew patterns over the now almost completely pink bandaging, leaving light tears. Hw noticed his whole arm was pink, as well. Not just the fore arm. 

The glowing. There it was again. He felt his cheeks burn as they illuminated bright pink the once wistful shade of gray white and black pallets by the stormy weather. He was used to it, though it brought back memories. Most of which he'd like to forget. No, all of them. Like G.H.E.M. Like Volleyball. Like his dads van. Like white, like... 

Like Jasper.

Scared of what? Rang in his head again and again. It didn't take much consideration, none, actually, for he had already known the answer. And he's known it for a while. But he's never said it. Because it's sad. And acknowledging. And he was bad at that. And he hated it. Because he wanted to name himself fine. But that's what got him into this mess, and no, he wasnt fine, because he knew what he was scared of. And he felt like Connie did, too. 

"Myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And no "fine" person is scared of themselves.


End file.
